


A Smutty Alternate 9.1

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Related, First Time, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 05:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1592609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas falls from heaven. Dean finds him. Sexy hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Smutty Alternate 9.1

**Author's Note:**

> I really couldn't think of a more creative title for this. I wrote it about a week before 9.1 came out and just found it again, polished it off, and thought it'd be fun to post. Just a one-shot.
> 
> Check my [author tumblr](http://www.bettydays.tumblr.com) if you want updates on my stuff and things.

Dean is bored.

Dean _hates_ being bored.

Dean is bored because Sammy is still knocked out cold from his stupid attempt at closing the gates of Hell and thus almost killing himself in the process.

Naturally, what should have been an exciting and climactic conclusion has miraculously dissolved itself into the scene we see here, per the pattern of the past eight seasons, guiding the way for _yet another_ conveniently-woven, over-arching storyline to build from the failure of the previous storyline’s poorly-resolved conclusion.

But Dean doesn’t know that. He’s just happy Sammy is safe, but now he’s in the bunker, scrolling through Busty Asian Beauties vids he’s seen before but nothing is really piquing his interest, because he’s worried about Cas, and he’s worried about Sammy, and he’s worried about the fate of the world. Nothing new, really. Except there’s nothing to distract him from the burdens he has upheld since he was a child. Well, there’s busty Asian beauties, but we’ve already determined that that’s not really doing the trick for him right now.

He opens another tab and starts scrolling through news articles, hoping to find evidence of a quick salt ‘n burn job.

He doesn’t have to look for very long when he finds a picture that stops him cold. His jaw drops, his breath hitches, and his heart pounds in his chest.

_Cas._

...is pointing a gun at a Kwik-E-Mart clerk.

There’s a video below the article. Dean clicks play.

_“...is still at large. He has been described as white, early-30s, 6’ tall, and wearing a tan trenchcoat and business suit. He is armed and dangerous. If you see him, please call our hotline. Information to follow, and we’ll be back after this short break.”_

The video cuts to a five-second clip of security footage at the convenience store. Cas is holding up a handgun at the clerk, who quickly shuffles through his cash drawer. Cas looks up at the camera and winks. His eyes glow bright silver.

 _Shapeshifter_ , Dean thinks. _Shit._

It takes him a moment to get his bearings. He was hoping to find a cut-and-dry case possibly involving an attractive-albeit-single damsel in distress, who may or may not thank him with copious amounts of frantic, adrenaline-fueled sexy times. Instead, Cas is in distress. Of course Cas is in distress. He just fell from heaven. He’s a baby in a goddamn trenchcoat. And in less than 48 hours, he’s managed to get picked up by a shapeshifter.

Dean sits back in his chair and puts his metaphorical thinking cap on. This is usually what Sammy is for, but at the moment, Dean’s gotta be the brains for both of them.

He could think much better if he had a cup of coffee and some pie.

But that would have to wait. He has to save Cas.

The shifter intentionally made eye contact with the camera. And winked. Cas probably doesn’t even know how to wink, and if he did, he wouldn’t understand why anyone would do that. The shifter is making sure whatever hunter is watching knows he’s a shifter. He’s calling whoever is watching out, challenging them. And it’s Cas. The shifter probably knows who Cas is, and if the shifter knows who Cas is, the shifter knows who Dean is.

The shapeshifter is baiting Dean. And Sam, but Sammy’s outta commission right now, so Dean’s gotta go on a solo job to save his baby in a trenchcoat.

***

Dean dons his monkey suit and heads to the Kwik-E-Mart that was held up two towns over. He holds up his badge to the young, apathetic-looking kid behind the counter who, less than a day ago, had a gun pointed at his face.

“Why is the FBI investigating a convenience store robbery?” he asks, never changing his slack, bored expression.

Dean rolls his eyes and sighs. “That’s classified. Just take me to the security footage, kid.”

He shrugs, closes the comic book he’s reading, and slopes off his stool to let Dean into the back room to look through the security videos.

The DVD of the crime is still in the player, so Dean gets to the robbery itself to see the thing in full. The newscast didn’t leave much out of the clip. Cas walks in, looks around, walks straight up to the snarky kid behind the counter, and points a gun in his face.

Dean rewinds, watches it again.

Cas walks in, looks around--

Dean rewinds again.

Cas walks in, looks at someone at the back of the store. A split second too long. Dean pauses.

He can’t see who’s at the back of the store because an aisle is blocking the way.

He goes back to the front of the store. “Hey kid, you got another security camera in here?”

The teen rolls his eyes and points lazily to a camera at the back of the store, sighing. There’s a camera in one corner and a mirror in the other. Bingo.

“You got the tapes for that camera?” Dean asks.

He sighs again. “They’re the ones labeled ‘B.’”

Dean runs back to the office, finds the aptly labeled security DVD, and pops it in. He fast-forwards to the moment the shifter looks to the back of the store. There’s a woman, thin, brunette, meandering by the dairy products. She keeps her head down, paces, puts the gallon of milk she was holding back in the case, and leaves the store.

Dean runs back out front and beckons the kid back to the office. He looks put-out, even though Dean is trying to find the guy who shoved a gun in his face. Talk about gratitude.

“You recognize this woman?” Dean asks harshly.

“Yeah,” the kid says in his monotone drawl. “She’s my Spanish teacher, Ms. Rodriguez.”

“At the high school?”

The kid just stares at him. “Yeah at the high school,” he replies, sarcastic-sounding but literal.

Dean clenches his jaw and tries to refrain from punching this punk in the face. “Thanks,” he growls tersely, and leaves the store. It’s 3PM. Hopefully he can catch Ms. Rodriguez before she leaves school.

***

He rolls up to the local high school, flashes his badge in the office, and asks in his most professional manner if he could please be pointed to Ms. Rodriguez’s classroom.

The school has cleared out except for the extra curricular clubs. He finds the room he’s looking for and knocks on the door. Through the window, he can see that Ms. Rodriguez is indeed the woman from the video, but instead of jeans and a sweater, she’s wearing dark gray slacks and a white blouse. Her long, brown hair is pulled up in a tight bun.

“Come in,” she says without looking up from a stack of papers.

Dean enters the room. She looks up and doesn’t smile, rather gazes at him quizzically. “How may I help you?”

Dean flashes his badge again. “Agent Smith. Robert Smith. FBI. I’m here to ask you a few questions about a robbery that you witnessed yesterday afternoon.”

She stands, crosses the room, and shakes his hand. “Why is the FBI investigating a convenience store robbery?”

Dean scratches the back of his head, “Uhh, slow week.” He looks around the room before continuing, “Anyway, do you recognize the man who held up the convenience store?”

Ms. Rodriguez crosses her arms and leans against a student’s desk. “No, I don’t believe so. Do you have a picture of him?”

“Uhh, no. Actually--” Dean pauses, thinks a moment, pulls out his phone and shuffles through the pictures. He blushes, remembering the picture he had snapped of Castiel looking particularly irritated when Dean beat Cas’s high score on his own cell phone’s Tetris game. “Yeah, I do.” He holds up the picture of an irritated Castiel to Ms. Rodriguez.

She scrutinizes the photo closely. “No. No I don’t believe I recognize him.” She hands the phone back to him and checks her watch. “Listen, I have to run to an appointment.” She crosses back to her desk quickly and grabs a piece of paper and a pencil, scribbling quickly on the page. “Why don’t we finish this up later at my place, Agent Smith.” She steps back over to Dean and hands him the slip of paper, smirking, “Over a glass of wine, maybe?”

Dean takes the piece of paper and grins. “Sounds great,” he replies, rethinking his previous disappointment at the lack of potential sexy times during this case.

***

Two hours later, Dean has consumed a fantastic double bacon cheeseburger, a handful of steak fries, and two craft beers from the local brewpub. He gives himself a once-over in the rearview mirror before stepping out of the Impala and crossing the yard to knock on Ms. Rodriguez’s front door.

It took a bit of deciding, but he opted to toss the suit jacket and roll up his dress shirt sleeves instead. Bitches _love_ rolled-up sleeves.

Ms. Rodriguez opens the door. She smiles at him. “Agent Smith, please come in.”

Dean crosses the threshold inside and looks around at the modest home.

“Have a seat.” She gestures to the couch. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

Dean sits down on the wide floral couch and impulsively scans the room for signs of any occult clues. He can't see anything out of the ordinary.

Ms. Rodriguez comes back in the room with a cheese tray, a bottle of wine, and two glasses. She sits down across from Dean and begins pouring.

“Ms. Rodriguez…” he begins.

“Anna, please.” She smiles at him, handing him the glass. “I hope you like chardonnay?”

“It’s my favorite,” he replies, taking the glass. He sips the drink and tries not to wrinkle his nose.

Anna holds her glass and swirls the drink. “You had more questions for me?”

“Uhh, yes, if you could… describe the events of the... robbery?” He takes another gulp of the wine and pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s suddenly feeling lightheaded.

And now the room is starting to spin.

And there are big black dots taking over his vision.

“Hello, Dean,” a gravelly voice says from across the room.

Dean uses all his willpower to focus his vision. Suddenly looming over him is his baby in a trenchcoat. Rather, some douchebag shifter trying to pass as his guardian angel. Ex-guardian angel. Whatever. Dean is personally offended that anyone dare try to look as appallingly handsome as Cas… with his… damn cheekbones and… bright blue eyes.

The room begins to spin even faster.

“Oh, goddammit,” Dean mumbles before blacking out.

***

Dean regains consciousness in a dark room, sitting in a chair, with his hands tied solidly behind his back. Of course.

He looks around. There’s a tiny bit of light streaming in from a small, poorly covered window about ten feet away. It smells of damp and concrete. Basement. Of course.

He tugs at his bindings and his fingers brush against something. Flesh. He gropes at it. Knuckles, fingers, palms. Someone is tied up behind him.

“Hello?” he whispers into the darkness.

That gravelly voice again says, “Hello, Dean,” but more exasperated and tired than when the shifter had said it.

“Cas?” Dean asks hopefully.

“Yes.”

“Cas, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Cas breathes deeply. “I… I don’t know. I don’t have much to compare to.”

Dean’s heart hurts for a moment at that, the thought of Cas not only falling from Heaven and losing his grace, but immediately getting captured by shapeshifters. “Are you bleeding?”

“I don’t believe so. Not anymore.”

“I thought you would be happier that I’m here.”

“Excuse me if I’m reluctant to believe you’re not just one of them.”

Dean pauses. “Good point.” They sit in silence a moment. “If I could get us out of these damn ropes, we’d be able to test each other.”

Dean feels Cas shift behind him. Suddenly, Cas is standing in front of him. He has a cut above his right eye and his white t-shirt is filthy and torn. He’s wearing a pair of jeans a size too big for him and they’re riding too low on his slender hips. His hair is sticking up every which way, but his eyes are just as fierce as they’ve always been. He looks smaller than Dean remembers him, but no less terrifying.

It’s really him, Dean thinks. It’s really his Cas.

“How did you…” Dean trails off.

“I’m a fallen angel, Dean. Not an idiot. I can maneuver my way out of a knot.”

They stare at each other a moment and Dean can’t help but smile a little at him. He swears he sees Cas’s lip twitch up in response. “Where’s the silver?” he asks.

“Ankle holster,” Dean replies.

Cas carefully kneels down, lifts up Dean’s pant leg, and slides the small blade out of its holster. Before standing back up, he makes a small slit at Dean’s calf. Dean hisses in response. “Dammit, Cas, give a guy a heads up.”

Cas stands and beams. “Dean. It’s really you. You really came for me.”

“Of course I did,” he nods toward Cas. “Now you.”

Cas’s smile fades. “Of course.” He lowers the knife to his forearm and makes a cut, wincing. Then he moves behind Dean and cuts the ropes binding him.

Dean stands and brings Cas in for a hug. “I was worried about you, man. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Hesitating, Cas lifts an arm up and pats Dean’s back. “We have to get out of here Dean,” he says into the crook of Dean’s neck.

Dean pulls away, reluctant, and thumps Cas’s shoulder. “Yeah. You got any idea how to get out of here? Or do you wanna head back up there guns blazing?”

Cas looks at him quizzically. “I don’t have a gun, Dean.”

“It’s a figure of-- nevermind.” Dean looks around at the small basement windows that have no means of opening. “Guns blazing it is,” he mumbles.

They both hear the sound of footsteps above them, and Dean whispers, “The knife,” while holding out his hand.

Cas hands it to him and Dean grips it tight. “Now sit back down and pretend your hands are tied where they were.”

They get into position as the basement door opens and the tall stiletto heels of Ms. Rodriguez clunk down the stairs. Dean pretends to be passed out. Cas stares blankly into space.

Thankfully, she ignores them, and turns toward a cabinet at the opposite end of the room. Dean risks a glance at her as she opens the cabinet to a big, creepy looking shrine. She’s about ten feet away. Dean grips the knife tighter and shouts, “Cas! Now!” while barrelling out of his chair and sprinting full-force at her.

She turns toward Dean with alarming speed as he reaches her and lifts the knife above him, but she blocks his blow while kicking his feet out from under him, and he falls to the ground.

They begin grappling as Cas stares on at them, chair raised above him to bash against the woman’s back, but with lightning speed Dean has never seen from a shapeshifter, she changes. Her skin doesn’t shed. There’s no process. One minute, she’s Ms. Rodriguez, and the next, he’s Dean Winchester’s clone, cheap Fed suit and all.

Dean hates this part. Fighting himself. Killing himself. Watching himself die in a mirror. It’s traumatizing as fuck.

Other Dean is strong, and pins him at his chest with his knee while wrenching the knife away from him. Real Dean takes the opportunity to roll the shifter over and grapple back the knife, but ends up knocking it out of his hand and it flies across the room, landing feet from Castiel.

Cas hesitates, looking from one to the other in confusion.

“Oh _motherfucker_ , don’t tell me…” Dean knees Dean in the balls, and the other Dean grunts and falls to his side, “you lost track of which one is the right one?”

Dean grabs up the other Dean in a headlock, and the other Dean maneuvers his way into a different headlock. They’re stalemated, and both look up to stare at Cas, breathless.

Other Dean tries to wrest his way out of Dean’s grip. “Cas, man. Purgatory, remember? Everything we’ve been through? Look at me, it’s me, man.”

Surely Castiel can tell the real Dean from the fake one, Dean thinks. Thankfully, Dean has been practicing hiding memories for just such occasions. Memories that are so dark and deep within him that he read somewhere shifters couldn’t reach them. He tightens his grip around the neck of fake Dean and looks up at Cas with an unparalleled ferocity. “Cas. In hell. When you pulled me out.” The memory brings up a painful lump in Dean’s throat. “Remember what I was doing?” His mouth goes dry and he shuts his eyes tight, taking in a deep breath. “I was torturing a kid. A _kid_ , man. He found his dad’s gun, and it went off, and now he’s in hell for eternity. And I was there, tearing apart is sad little soul, with a grin on my face.” He opens his eyes and looks back up at Cas. “Do you remember that?”

Garbled, fake Dean shouts, “No! He’s lying! He’s trying to give you false memories, man! It’s a fuckin’ trick!”

Castiel looks at the real Dean with nothing but openness and sympathy in his eyes, as though he still had angelic powers. His mojo may be gone, Dean thinks, but the man will always be an angel. Will always be _his_ angel, to look at someone as shitty as Dean, with his 30 shitty years on earth, and his 40 in hell, and his 1 in purgatory, always fucking everything up, always hurting everyone. Killing everyone. And now he’s here, trying to save Cas, and Cas is going to be the one who saves him. Again.

Cas bends over slowly to pick up the knife. The Deans are struggling against one another, but they both have secure locks in place. He stands back up, and stares at both of them, looking from one to the other, lips pursed in concentration. Then he steps forward, and shoves the knife into Dean’s chest.

The shifter screams in agony and dissolves into a puddle of skin at Castiel’s feet.

Cas holds out his hand for Dean to take. “I do remember, Dean. The man I raised from hell… he wasn’t you. You have the brightest, purest soul of any human being on this planet, and you had it amongst all of the lost souls in hell. And even without my powers, I can still feel it in you. It’s this quiet, low note that resonates whenever I’m around you. We can be in a room of a thousand Dean Winchesters and I would be able to find the real one, blindfolded.”

Dean takes Cas’s hand and stands. Their hands linger together as Dean takes a step closer to Castiel, stepping into his space until they’re inches apart. He stares at Cas’s lips, not breathing, and leans in--

The door to the basement opens again and down walks the spitting image of Dean’s angel: trenchcoat, baby blues, sex hair and all.

As fake Castiel walks down the steps, he sees the puddle what was his wife. He lets out a pained noise, and as he reaches the bottom of the staircase, lunges at Dean.

But the real Cas is still holding onto the knife, and as fake Castiel knocks into Dean with alarming force against a wall, Cas brings the knife down into the shifter’s back.

And then there are two puddles of dead shifter goop at their feet.

***

Dean and Cas make it back to the bunker and Dean has to explain to Castiel that humans have to bathe. He picks out a clean pair of jeans and a faded CCR t-shirt for Cas to wear.

When Cas comes out of the bathroom freshly showered and wearing Dean’s clothes, they sit in the kitchen together in peaceful silence tending at each other’s wounds.

Cas sits on the kitchen table, feet dangling off of it, and Dean stands between his legs, carefully applying Neosporin to the cut above his forehead with a Q-tip.

Cas hisses in pain.

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” Dean tells him, gently sticking a small bandaid to his forehead. His hand lingers on Castiel’s face as he thumbs over the bandage and trails gently down Castiel’s cheek, looking him in the eye.

Cas stares back, icy blue eyes full of curiosity and anxiety and fear, and Dean just can’t stand it. It breaks his heart to think about Castiel having to navigate this world alone, powerless, not knowing a damn thing about how to be a human.

So Dean cups Castiel’s face in his hand, and leans in the rest of the way to press a kiss to Cas’s soft pink lips.

Castiel gasps and freezes, but Dean continues kissing his lower lip lightly until Cas gets the picture and begins kissing him back, urgently, grasping his suit jacket in his hands and pulling him in closer, until Dean is close enough that Cas can wrap his legs around the back of Dean's knees and press their hips together.

Dean opens their mouths and lets his tongue sweep into Cas, and Cas lets out a low groan that goes straight to Dean’s dick.

Dean makes a questioning noise in his throat, not expecting Castiel’s seemingly fervent _need_. He can feel Cas’s cock, hard, through his jeans, rolling against Dean’s hip. Dean lines his own now-throbbing dick against Cas’s and rolls with him, breaking the kiss to trail down and pant open-mouthed kisses to Castiel’s throat.

Cas makes whimpering noises as Dean unbuttons his jeans and slides his hand down Cas’s boxers to jerk him slowly. The whimpering turns into, “Ohh… _ohhh Dean_ …” as Dean strokes him.

Castiel tangles his hands in Dean’s hair as Dean begins nipping and sucking gently at his neck while he takes Cas apart with his hands.

Cas rocks his hips up into Dean’s fist, shuddering, muscles tensed, and Dean can feel how close he is already. Moving his hand to Dean’s dick, Cas gropes at him through his pants, and groans out, “Please… Dean… _with_ you… please.”

With his other hand, Dean unbuttons himself and takes out his own dick. Cas reaches for it, stroking it gently and moaning.

Dean growls into his neck at Castiel’s urgent and wary touch, “Here…” He lines their cocks together and grabs them both in his fist, and they rock together in time.

Castiel covers Dean’s hand with his own. “Oh, _fuck_ , Dean. This feels… _amazing_.”

Dean licks Cas’ bottom lip and sucks on it, then lets go and, between kisses, tells him, “Oh god, Cas… keep talking.”

Their thrusts become quicker, less even, as Cas pants, “Dean… I didn’t know… I didn’t know this could feel so good. I’ve wanted you for… _oh fuck_ … ever. _Please_ Dean…”

Dean tightens his grip and speeds up his thrusts. Cas is totally frozen, poised at the brink, can barely kiss Dean back as Dean drowns him in kisses and Cas’s moans turn into erratic panting and whimpers.

Right at the edge, Castiel groans out, “Dean… I love you,” and comes over their fists with a sob.

Dean’s heart explodes as he comes with Castiel, panting, “Love you, t--o _hhhh god Cas_.”

Dean lets go of them slowly and presses his forehead against Cas’s, eyes closed and breathless.

He doesn’t need to see the snarky grin on Castiel’s face to feel it, when Cas says, “I think I need another shower.” Opening his eyes and crossing them, Dean can see a vast, smiling blue ocean staring back at him. “Want to join me this time?”


End file.
